


On the Other Side of the Storm

by fenellaevangela



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenellaevangela/pseuds/fenellaevangela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the most important parts of Tom's life were because of missions turning out in unanticipated ways, but the possibility that an unexpected electrical anomaly might turn out to be a turning point in his life was the furthest thing from Tom’s mind when one caused the shuttlecraft he was piloting to go dark above a strange planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissHammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHammer/gifts).



It all started with an away mission gone wrong. 

Someday, once time and distance separated him from their long odyssey home, Tom would look back and realize that everything that happened in the Delta Quadrant – the friends he made, the things he did, his entire _self_ in the years that followed - was the result of a mission gone wrong. Actually, all of the most important parts of his life were because of missions turning out in unanticipated ways. But the possibility that an unexpected electrical anomaly might turn out to be a turning point in his life was the furthest thing from Tom’s mind when one caused the shuttlecraft he was piloting to go dark above a strange planet.

Surveying the planet should have been simple. It was the only class M planet in the system, and beyond a small pre-warp civilization that had caught the commander’s attention it held little interest for Voyager. They hadn’t even intended to land, planning to make all their observations from orbit; although slightly smaller than Earth, the planet was almost entirely covered in one massive ocean, so landing wasn’t much of an option. Now it was starting to look like landing was the small crew’s only chance of survival.

Warning sirens blared in the shuttlecraft’s small cabin and the pulsing light from the red alert was the only illumination that hadn’t yet failed. Power was all but dead – life support barely holding on and the ship’s computer unresponsive – and the three men knew they were fighting for their lives. With their communications systems a casualty of the same electrical anomaly that had maimed the ship, and the next check-in with Voyager still hours away, there was no hope for a last minute rescue as the shuttlecraft plummeted towards the shimmering planet below.

In the co-pilot’s seat ensign Kawa swore as he input the same command sequence over and over again.

“Emergency power will _not_ engage!” he said.

“Try override Delta-Eight,” Tom told him. Still struggling with the shuttlecraft’s controls himself, he called over his shoulder for the other member of the away team. “We kind of need those repairs, Commander!”

In the back of the cabin Chakotay was elbows-deep in an access panel, circuitry spilling out around him. “I’m trying!” he called. “I need -”

His response was cut short when the red alert stopped abruptly, leaving the three men in pitch darkness as the shuttlecraft lost altitude sharply and Chakotay was thrown across the cabin. He hit the opposite bulkhead with a grunt.

“Brace for impact!” Tom yelled, a split second before the shuttlecraft breached the planet’s atmosphere and began tumbling out of control towards the ocean below.

* * *

Chakotay woke on the floor of the shuttlecraft, the darkness all around him made even darker by a bright light shining in his face. Cold water was seeping into his uniform and someone was shaking his shoulder roughly.

“– need to get up, Commander, come on, don’t make me carry you out of here -”

“I’m up,” Chakotay said, holding up a hand to try and shield his eyes from the light. Water dripped onto his face from his sleeve. It made his eyes sting.

“Thank God,” said Tom, leaning back. The beam of light from the emergency headlight strapped across his forehead shifted away from Chakotay’s face, allowing him to make out the shuttlecraft interior. The small cabin was in disarray and none of the screens were active.

Tom wasted no time taking hold of Chakotay’s arms and tugging him up to his feet. Like Chakotay, his uniform was soaked through with water. Even with the poor lighting it was possible to see the dark fabric clinging to his body. 

“The shuttlecraft is sinking,” the younger man explained. “Wherever the hull breach is, we can’t find it without external sensors and nothing’s working -”

“Ensign Kawa?” Chakotay asked.

Tom gestured towards the emergency hatch in the roof, which Chakotay noticed was ajar. 

“Outside,” Tom said. The tension in Chakotay’s shoulders eased a fraction. “We’ve got rations and the med kit loaded onto the survival raft. We’re just waiting on you. Commander.”

Chakotay gave one last look around the cabin. He didn’t want to abandon the vessel unless absolutely necessary – a survival raft would keep them afloat, but it was a far cry from the shelter and functionality that a shuttlecraft could afford – but a quick assessment of the situation told him to trust the other man’s judgement. The water was already ankle-deep and the shuttlecraft itself was ominously silent; there was nothing to be done without a proper repair crew.

“Lead the way,” said the commander, then followed Tom onto the roof.

A brisk wind greeted them outside the hatch. That and a salty spray that left the taste of salt on Chakotay’s lips. The sky was overcast and he had no idea if it was morning or afternoon, only that there was still light enough to see by. Chakotay took advantage of the visibility to check – with little expectation - whether they had been lucky enough to crash land within travelling distance of the planet’s sole landmass, but there was nothing to be seen except unbroken water stretching out to the horizon on all sides.

He hoped it was morning. It wasn’t going to be pleasant floating on the open sea after dark.

Ensign Kawa stood up from his spot on the raft when Chakotay leapt down from the shuttlecraft roof.

“Sir, good to see you’re awake.”

Chakotay gestured for the other man to sit, picking his own seat in the process. “I’m grateful for the concern, ensign, but I’ve been through worse crashes than this,” he said, and tried to smile reassuringly. “At ease. We might as well get comfortable.”

The two men settled in. The survival raft was simple and lightweight, made for short term use while awaiting rescue; half the raft was enclosed with a tent-like structure but the rest was merely open deck lined with bench seats. From his seat near the bow Chakotay could feel the raft wobble on the surface of the water as Tom jumped on board a moment later.

Check-in with Voyager wasn’t scheduled for four more hours, and with their supplies limited to emergency rations and whatever salvage hadn’t been bolted down there was little to do except watch their shuttlecraft gradually sink. Perched fragilely upon the water’s surface, the three men on the raft prepared themselves for a long wait.

* * *

Tom didn’t know how long he’d slept when a wave of icy ocean water engulfed the shelter on the raft where he’d been resting and woke him with a shock of cold. He sputtered, mouth bitter with salt, and for a moment he was too disoriented to find his way out onto the open deck. Up, down – which way was the water? Which way was the air? Not bothering to struggle to his feet he found the shelter’s entranceway by feel and pushed through, clinging to the thick canvas to keep himself from being swept away while he tried to spot the other men.

At first he couldn’t see them at all. With the wind whipping rain across his face with enough force that it stung he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone make out shapes in the gloom. With frustration he tried to call out over the crashing of the waves.

“Commander!” he yelled, sputtering. “Ensign!”

He thought he heard an answer just as another wave hit the raft hard enough to make him stumble. He struggled to get his feet under him then started making his way across the short distance towards the bow. The raft bucking underneath him made it precarious going, but a moment later he could see a figure bent over the gunwale and surged forward without a second thought.

“Hold on!” he said, trying to get a grip around the other man’s chest to pull him back. The man twisted in his grip and Tom realized it was Chakotay, his hair plastered to his forehead and water streaming down his face. Tom watched his lips move but he couldn’t make out the words over the howl of the wind.

“We need to get away from the side!” Tom insisted, still trying to pull Chakotay back. 

The commander shook his head. He yelled louder. “Kawa!”

Tom’s stomach dropped. “Kawa?” 

“He went overboard!” Chakotay said.

Tom looked down and noticed for the first time the rope tethered around Chakotay’s waist and hanging over the gunwale. He couldn’t see where it entered the heaving water but it was _slack_ , and with a swell of urgency Tom grabbed for the rope. His fingers were numb with cold by now but he got as best a grip as he could around the rope and pulled.

The line came easily. Tom turned towards Chakotay and even with the dark and the wind and rain, even with the raft rocking violently beneath them, the two men made eye contact. They knew. They _knew_

There was nothing on the other end.

* * *

Chakotay had lost crewmembers before, both in the Maquis and since joining Voyager. Ensign Kawa had been a good man, and Chakotay hoped that he got a chance to pay his respects properly.

Right now those chances seemed pretty slim.

They had no way of knowing how long the storm had lasted. During the storm Chakotay had, irrationally, wondered if it ever _would_ end – or if he would die before it ended, like ensign Kawa, swallowed up by the rain and the waves and lost for no reason except the cycle of nature. Eventually he and Tom had staggered back to the shelter and rode out the rest of the storm clinging to the entranceway, which was as close to the center of the raft as they could anchor themselves. Chakotay had held onto the coarse canvas until his hands were numb and his muscles burned but eventually, gradually, the storm had passed.

But they were still there. Voyager still hadn’t arrived to beam them back aboard.

Chakotay sat on the floor of the raft, his back to the bow and his legs stretched out in front of him. As he stared up at the night sky – he never tired of seeing a brand new night sky for the first time - Tom emerged from the shelter and made his way over. He sat down with a sigh.

“You should be resting,” Chakotay told him.

Tom shrugged. “The last time I slept in there, I woke up to this.” With a broad gesture he encompassed the entirety of their situation: their damaged shelter, the rations they had lost in the storm, the pool of water still filling the lowest part of the raft. Chakotay suspected he also meant Voyager’s conspicuous absence and their certainty that four hours had long since passed. But they had decided not to speak of that.

Chakotay sighed. He wanted to tell Tom that he was scared, too, and that he was sorry that they were even there. He was the one who had wanted to take a closer look at the planet and its native population while Voyager was mining for dilithium elsewhere in the solar system. He was the one who had asked Tom if he wanted to come, in fact, thinking the other man might enjoy it. 

He didn’t say anything. 

The two men sat there, drifting on the ocean, and slowly fell asleep side by side.

* * *

When Tom first saw the dark spot on the horizon he thought it was probably one of the native marine species breaching the water, like whales were known to do back on Earth. That, or a mirage. There was a movement to it, a bobbing and banking that meant it couldn’t be land.

“Hey, Commander,” he said. “Over here. Do you see that?”

Chakotay looked up from where he was sitting a few feet away, the makings of an improvised fishing line strewn around him. One that would hopefully work. God, Tom was hungry.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tom pointed out to sea where the thing, whatever it was, looked like it was just a little bit closer. Chakotay moved over to Tom’s side to get a better look, leaning into Tom’s personal space as he did so, and Tom glanced over at the other man. Their situation was too dire for Tom to bother stopping himself from taking the opportunity to admire the way Chakotay looked; if they were going to die in this raft, he wasn’t going to do so pretending he didn’t find Chakotay attractive just because he was his superior officer. Chakotay didn’t seem to be aware of Tom’s attention but Tom could see the exact moment when he noticed the figure on the horizon. 

Tom averted his gaze and shifted slightly. “What do you think it is?” he asked. “Some sort of whale, maybe?”

Chakotay leaned forward, resting his hands on the gunwale. “No, I don’t think it is. Look closer.”

Frowning, Tom did. With a jolt he saw that the thing was even closer than it had been a few moments ago, and when he got a good look at it he realized that that probably hadn’t happened by chance.

“Am I seeing things from hunger, or is that -”

“A ship,” Chakotay said. 

The wave of relief that washed through Tom was so intense that he almost lost his footing for a moment. He couldn’t even bring himself to care that this would be first contact with a pre-warp civilization, or that they had no way to know if the aliens would be hostile or not – why worry about such trivial things when they were no longer the only souls floating alone on a vast, empty ocean? Once he pulled himself together again, he smiled.

“I guess you get to have a look at the locals after all, eh, Commander?” he said, bumping shoulders with the other man.

Chakotay gave a short huff of laughter. “This isn’t really what I was hoping for, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, but you’ll get to meet them firsthand!” Tom said. “Forget all that dry sensor data - you get to say hello, shake hands. Eat some of their food, hopefully.” 

“I’ll settle for that last one,” Chakotay agreed, and he was smiling brighter than Tom had ever seen him smile. He liked the look of that.

For all that the vessel was moving faster than their little raft it was still some distance away so the two men settled down into the nearest seats, Chakotay’s fishing line abandoned, to watch while it approached.

As the structure got closer to them it became clear to Tom just how large it actually was; this was no small boat, but one that could probably fit dozens of people. It was boxy and broad with a hull that seemed to reach straight up out of the water.

“It looks more like a walled city than a ship,” Chakotay muttered. 

Tom nodded, although Chakotay was probably just speaking to himself. It _did_ look like a walled city, and once they were floating right outside those walls Tom could make out what looked like a set of city gates. He was trying to figure out how the gates worked – they didn’t seem to be watertight – when he was startled out of his observations by a strange voice.

“Drifters!” the voice called. 

Tom craned his neck back and saw a figure poking up above the walls, almost two storeys above them.

“Hello!” Chakotay called back. “We were caught in a storm! Can you help us?”

There was a short pause before the voice responded. “Who are your people?” it asked.

Tom and Chakotay shared a look. There wasn’t any point in trying to make something up, not when they didn’t know the names of the different communities occupying the planet. Tom shrugged.

“We’re from Starfleet!” he answered. 

He wondered if the name would give the stranger pause, but after only a few moments the gates began to open. It turned out that there was no need for the gates to be watertight, because they weren’t part of a ship’s hull at all; it really was a city wall. As the gates opened they revealed what looked like a floating town, complete with an area of open water behind the gates that lead to a dock. A small boat emerged from the gates and towed them inside.

To Tom’s immense relief they were greeted at the dock with a cup each of fresh water and a portion of something that, statistically speaking, was probably fish. It didn’t taste like any fish he was familiar with but he honestly didn’t care.

One woman stood out from the crowd around them as the obvious leader. She let both men finish their much-needed refreshments - probably recognizing the look of hungry seafarers – before beckoning them to follow her. Tom noted that the other inhabitants of the floating town kept their distance.

The woman ushered them into a small building with a smile. She followed them in and offered them yet more food once they were all settled on cushions on the floor. Tom accepted gratefully.

“I am Winna, one of the leaders here,” the woman said after a moment. “We haven’t met any travellers from the Star Fleet before. Is the fleet large?”

Tom nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, pretty large. We were supposed to return soon, but after what happened to our boat . . .”

“Very unfortunate,” Winna agreed. She served them both fresh water from a flask on her belt. Tom tried not to gulp it down too fast but it was hard - he always forgot how _good_ water tasted.

“Yes,” Chakotay said. “We would have starved without your help. Please, accept our gratitude. My name is Chakotay, and my companion is Tom.”

Winna smiled. “Well, Chakotay, hopefully we’ll be able to repair your vessel and get you outfitted to return to the Star Fleet soon. But while you two are here, we should get to the business of breeding.”

Tom put down his cup abruptly, and he felt Chakotay still beside him.

“Pardon me?” Chakotay asked.

Winna looked confused by their reactions and Tom began to feel worried. They didn’t have anywhere to go if things went south.

“ _Breeding_ ,” Willa repeated. “Mix our people’s blood, to strengthen them in combination, as all travellers upon the Great Water do.”

“Um,” said Tom, then had to suppress a wince at the inanity of it. He shot a glance at Chakotay. Fortunately, the other man must not have been quite so shocked, because he quickly adopted an apologetic expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “After your generosity towards us I wish we could grant this request, but I’m afraid we can’t.”

Winna furrowed her brow. She frowned. It looked like a simple refusal wasn’t going to cut it, and Tom hoped Chakotay could think of something to defuse the situation before they ended up back in the ocean. This time without a raft.

“Why not?” Winna asked. “Our water is good enough, our food, but not our blood?”

Chakotay quickly shook his head. “We don’t mean to offend. We’re honoured that you would ask us to breed into your community, but we’re forbidden to do so. Both Tom and I have taken religious vows, traditional among our people, that require us to be -”

“Monogamous!” Tom blurted.

Winna blinked. “Monogamous? I’m not sure I take your meaning. That doesn’t mean – one partner? No others?”

“Yes,” said Chakotay. But Tom could have sworn he was glaring at him while he said it.

* * *

It had taken more than a little convincing to make their host believe that Chakotay and Tom were exclusive sexual partners, or even that such an arrangement existed. Apparently it didn’t, at least not anywhere nearby. Chakotay should have realized that such a thinly spread population would be concerned about maintaining genetic diversity, but even if he had he knew he still would have been unprepared for Winna’s request. As it was, Winna seemed to find their excuse to be . . . impractical.

“But how does the Star Fleet prevent inbreeding?” she had asked, clearly judging them. 

“We’re . . . large,” was Tom’s answer. Chakotay had had to bite his cheek to keep from reacting, but Winna had let the matter drop after that. Or so Chakotay had first believed. 

As Winna had taken them around the floating town and introduced them to a number of people – a good many of whom, Chakotay had quickly realized, were women – he could feel the tension rise each time she explained that he and Tom were monogamous so no, unfortunately, they weren’t available to breed. It was obvious that they _had_ offended her, until it became obvious that actually, they hadn’t convinced her after all.

Tom jerked slightly when Chakotay wrapped an arm around his waist. Winna stood a few feet away, engrossed in a conversation and not paying them too much attention for the moment.

“Try and act natural,” Chakotay whispered. “Listen carefully. We need to get off this boat.”

There was a pause before Tom reacted, putting his arm around Chakotay in kind. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

What was wrong was the whispers Chakotay had heard as they left the last little shop where Winna had introduced them, the whispers that Chakotay had obviously not been meant to hear.

“They don’t think we’re a couple. They think we’re spies.”

* * *

The rest of the tour had been tense, to say the least. They had smiled and played the part as best they could – Tom could still feel the phantom sensation of Chakotay’s hand warm against his hip, where it had stayed for the rest of the tour – but there hadn’t been a chance to escape. Once Tom knew to look for it he noticed that they were being followed by at least two men who looked a little too purposeful to be merely curious. And even if Winna hadn’t had them under watch, where would Tom and Chakotay go? Their only real option was to make it clear that they were just an ordinary couple.

In the end, Winna had brought them to a small berth on the far side from the docks. It was a recess at waist height in the wall of what look like an eating place of some sort, deeper than it was wide and with just enough room for two people to lie down . . . assuming they weren’t concerned with personal space. 

“You can stay here for tonight,” she said. “Perhaps your vessel will be repaired in the morning.”

Tom highly doubted she was being sincere, but he thanked her anyway. “We really appreciate your hospitality.”

Both men wished Winna a good night and Tom assumed that that would be her cue to leave, but she seemed to be waiting. It suddenly dawned on Tom that she was waiting for them to climb into the berth. He gestured towards the entrance.

“After you. Honey.” Tom groaned internally, but no one seemed to bat an eye at his verbal stumble.

Chakotay slipped off his shoes first. Tom thought that was a good idea so he was in the middle of removing his own when Chakotay reached out for him from his seat at the edge of the berth. He pulled Tom forward by his waist until he was standing between Chakotay’s open legs. And then –

And then Chakotay kissed him.

It was just a moment, barely a kiss at all, and then Chakotay was lying down and tugging Tom in the berth after him. Tom heard Winna pull the curtain across the entrance and leave. Finally. He focussed on trying to get comfortable, but it was a snug fit and they each ended up on their sides in order to put a little space between them. 

Once they were settled Chakotay held a finger to his lips to caution silence, then tapped his ear and pointed down towards the berth’s entrance.

“They likely left guards,” he whispered.

“I saw at least two follow us in and sit at the bar,” Tom agreed. “What did you hear? How did we get pegged as spies?”

Chakotay shook his head slightly. “I don’t know for sure,” he explained. “But they didn’t believe our story – the cobbler was telling someone it was a _cover_. They think we’re hiding something.”

“Ha, well, they’re not exactly wrong, are they?” Tom whispered. “So what do we do?”

The other man cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose we have to convince them we’re a couple, don’t we?” 

“What, from in here?”

* * *

Tom moaned above him. Not a loud, throaty noise but closed off like it was taking everything he had to keep quiet. He broke off with a gasp and banged his fist against the wall of the berth a split second later, winking down at Chakotay as he did so. God, he was good at this.

Chakotay wasn’t sure this had been his best idea.

There wasn’t actually much need for both of them to make noise. Listening to the sounds Tom was making – only inches away from Chakotay, leaning over him on his hands and knees – was enough to make it clear what they were pretending was happening in their berth. Chakotay wasn’t sure he trusted himself to take part without reaching out and touching Tom. It wouldn’t take much to sit up and kiss him again –

“Come on,” Tom said, his voice breathy. “Come _on_ . . .”

Chakotay snapped himself out of it. This really wasn’t the place.

With a final theatrical gasp Tom let himself lie down, settling back on his side without bothering to be quiet about it. Was he flushed, or was that just an effect of the light?

“Well _that’s_ something I never thought I’d do on an away mission,” Tom whispered, grinning.

Chakotay chuckled softly. “I should hope not.”

“Is that judgement, Commander?” said the younger man. “This was _your_ idea, sir, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Oh, but you’re the one who got us married in the first place,” Chakotay pointed out.

“What do you mean?” asked Tom. “You’re the one who told Winna about our religious vows. I mean, it was quick thinking -”

Chakotay interrupted. “Of _celibacy_. I was going to say we were celibate.”

There was a pause, during which Chakotay got to see Tom’s eyes grow comically wide before he broke into a laugh and had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep the sound from drifting out of the berth and drawing the attention of their audience.

* * *

It was still night when Tom woke, as far as he could tell. Lying in the darkness, his back pressed flush against Chakotay’s own, he let himself worry about what was going to happen next. If their little act the night before had worked, what then? Even if their raft was more seaworthy, there was nowhere for them to go. They had no way to know when Voyager might collect them and that raft was nowhere to try surviving in the meantime. He knew it, and Chakotay surely knew it too. But if they could find an excuse to stay on the aliens’ floating town, could Tom keep up the charade with Chakotay? Could he bring himself to do that again without touching him for real?

God, he had wanted to touch him.

The joke of it was that they didn’t even get the chance to see if their ploy had paid off. Tom had drifted off again for a short while but it was still dark when the chirping of his combadge had him awake and alert in a second. It seemed to have the same effect on Chakotay as well and both sat up in the berth as best they could. 

“- team? This is Voyager. Come in.”

The transmission sounded more distant than normal but it was still as clear as a bell. Chakotay tapped his combadge. “Voyager, this is commander Chakotay.”

“Commander, it’s good to hear from you sir,” came the answer. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Tom realized it was Harry and quickly took the opportunity to cut in.

“It’s good to hear from you, too! But please, Harry, tell me you can beam us out of here.”

“We have a sensor lock,” Harry confirmed. Tom made eye contact with Chakotay and smiled. Those were the best words he had heard in days.

Three days, as it turned out. Once on board and debriefed by the captain, Tom and Chakotay learned that they’d been out of contact with Voyager for almost three days; they must have been drifting in the raft for at least two. Whatever electrical anomaly had fried the shuttlecraft’s circuitry had also interfered with Voyager’s sensors, making a long-range scan of the whole planet impossible. They’d had to scan the entire planet in a grid pattern to ensure they didn’t miss anything. 

That night Tom was so thankful to be sleeping in his own bed that it didn’t even bother him that he was in the bed alone. Well, it didn’t both him _much_.

* * *

Chakotay waited a week. He told himself he would wait until after ensign Kawa’s memorial service, which was two days after they were rescued, but two days wasn’t long enough. He could still taste the ocean salt on his skin, no matter what the settings on his sonic shower said, and he didn’t want this to be about that planet. He couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer, though.

He went to Tom’s quarters. The beginning of the night shift didn’t look any different from other times of the day on Voyager, but there was a quality to the atmosphere that Chakotay always thought felt unique. He stood in front of the other man’s door and even if it didn’t look like it had a week ago, in the berth with Tom’s body hanging over him, it was still night time.

He didn’t bother using the door chime. He knocked.

Tom’s voice came from the other side a few moments later. “Hello?”

“. . . Tom, it’s me. Chakotay.”

The door slid open and there was Tom, standing in the doorway wearing a set of simple red pajamas. The room behind him was dark.

“Can I help you with something, Commander?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Chakotay shook his head. “I’m not here as a commander,” he said. 

As he watched, Tom swallowed. He watched the movement as the younger man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, then looked up and saw Tom’s eyes on him.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

The door had barely slid shut behind him when Chakotay felt the barely-there touch of Tom’s hands on him. They flitted from his arms to his chest to his shoulders but wouldn’t settle. When Tom spoke his face was so close Chakotay could feel puffs of breath on his cheek. 

“To be clear,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “we’re both looking for a hands-on reenactment of our last night on Waterworld. Right? Because all I wanted that night was to lean down and -”

“Touch me,” Chakotay said, and pulled Tom in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This premise brought to you by the fact that I recently rewatched _Waterworld_ :-P


End file.
